


Away to Our Prison, We Two Alone

by snarkyscorp



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-31
Updated: 2012-05-31
Packaged: 2017-11-06 10:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/417770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkyscorp/pseuds/snarkyscorp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco attempts to take his father's place in Azkaban after the war, but Harry refuses to let him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Away to Our Prison, We Two Alone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bryoneybrynn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bryoneybrynn/gifts).



> Written for [](http://bryoneybrynn.livejournal.com/profile)[**bryoneybrynn**](http://bryoneybrynn.livejournal.com/) as part of a gift fic from a charity auction in 2009.

The cell was dank and dark and for once, Draco felt the weight of complete hopelessness sink down upon his skinny shoulders. He had never felt so weak, so void of hope, so alone.

The only happiness that drew him forward was that his life in Azkaban would replace his father's. His confessions, however false, were lies that saved his family. Lucius had no qualms about his release, had not argued the point with Draco, even when Narcissa begged him to reconsider.

What his mother did not understand, Draco knew perfectly well: Lucius needed the freedom. Draco would much rather atone for his misdeeds and rot alone in Azkaban than live the rest of his life with the full knowledge of everything that had happened.

At night, Draco curled into the darkest corner of his cot, and dreamed of Hogwarts the days before he assisted the Death Eaters in entering the school. The innocent moments with Blaise and Pansy, just running his fingers over the fine parchment of a new text, failed attempts at snide remarks towards Potter.

Thinking of Potter made Draco nauseous now more than anything. A Gryffindor through-and-through, Potter had been the only person to stand up for Draco at his trial. His heroics nearly foiled Draco's plans. Perhaps Draco had the Weasel and the Mudblood to thank for talking Harry out of his decision to vouch for Draco, but whatever the reason, Draco was glad when Potter finally took his seat and shut his big mouth.

Despite everything, Potter still fought for what was right.

It was amazing really, how similar they were, how alike in so many ways. Draco revisited the same lonely thoughts now and again, wondering how much different life might have been if Potter had been sorted into Slytherin, if Potter had accepted his friendship, if Potter had decided Malfoy was a better match than Weasley.

They were so alike, a snake and a lion, prideful and full of loathing, fighting against the things that were necessary and those that were thrust upon them.

How different life might have been had Harry Potter been provided a better path with Draco Malfoy beside him.

*****

When Harry strode into the cell, he had to swallow back the urge to vomit. It was filthy, it smelled like urine and blood, and it was colder than Harry imagined it would be. Not that he would have changed a thing; Azkaban was a place for murderers and rapists, people who didn't deserve the comforts of a normal live. Still, it was startling to Harry's senses, and when he saw Malfoy asleep in the furthest corner, a pang of guilt washed over him.

"Hey," he called out, somewhat afraid to move any closer. The wood of his wand felt heavy and thick in his fist. Powerful, ready.

Draco stirred and lifted his head. When his eyes adjusted to Harry's presence, he stiffened and drew himself slowly up. His pale feet hovered a moment over the cold floor before touching down, proof that Malfoy was still human.

"Come to kick me while I'm down, Potter?" Draco asked. His voice was hoarse and quiet, void of all the prior malice it had been known to carry. "Well, have at it. I am without a wand, weakened, tired—I'm sure you could make easy work of me."

Harry held Draco's gaze for longer than he intended; it was hard to look away from the dull stare. What was worse was that Draco's shirt had come partially undone and Harry could just make out the angry red line of a faded scar slashed across his chest. The sight of it made Harry's insides turn uncomfortably, made him remember the day he gave that to Malfoy; even accidental, it was one of Harry's most painful memories. Just Malfoy, pale and twitching, laying in a pool of blood and toilet water, his eyes white and rolling, his chest slashed and bloodied.

"Well?" Draco drawled quietly.

"I'm not here to fight you," Harry forced himself to say. He had been practicing a speech for hours about Draco's innocence and stupidity for putting himself in his father's place, but now that he stood in front of Malfoy, it was hard to remember any of it.

"Might want to ditch the wand then," Draco said.

Harry glanced down at his wand and against his better judgment lowered it and slipped it into the pocket of his robes. Hermione had made him bring it, and Ron had begged him to keep it as close as possible at all times. _Malfoy can't be trusted_ , he'd said. But then, who could these days? If anything, Harry trusted Malfoy more now that he'd landed himself a life sentence than before.

"So. What are you here for? Certainly not conversation, it seems."

Despite himself, Harry grinned. "I've always been bollocks at that." Taking a step forward, Harry broke their uncomfortable gaze to glance around the minimalist cell—a simple room of three walls, a ceiling, and a barred door that looked like a cage. "Do you really think you did the right thing, lying your arse off in front of the Wizengamot?"

Draco's shoulders stiffened and Harry noted with a glance that Draco's teeth ground together tightly.

"It would be easy," Harry added, "To provide proof that you are innocent and that your father is not."

"You're bluffing," Draco snapped. "What proof could you possibly have?"

Harry held back another grin; this was not about being pompous or quick-witted. "These," Harry said, reaching into his robe and pulling out two glass phials. The silvery liquid inside them would be obvious to anybody as to what they contained.

In realization, Draco's shoulders fell and he turned away. "What reason do you have, Potter, messing about with my life?"

"It's not really your life that concerns me," Harry lied. "It's your father's." Harry's grip tightened on the glass in his grasp. "He deserves to be holed up here—he deserves to be dead for the things he's done and the people he's hurt."

"And you have what right to put him here?" Draco growled, standing from the cot with a vitality that surprised Harry given the circumstances and condition of Draco's slim body. "What right do you have to tell my family how they should live?"

"I made a promise to your mother." Harry was shaking now, trying not to remember Narcissa's cold fingers trembling against his chest, on his cheek, her pale lips (so much like Draco's) at his ear. "I told her that you would be all right, but in here, you're as good as dead, and trust me that I do not care if you die outside this cell, but I will be damned if you will die _in_ it, Malfoy. Your mum would die herself seeing you rot away in his place. Even she knows that you're—"

"You keep my mother out of this!" Draco snarled, flinging himself at Harry with all of his strength.

As they tumbled to the ground, they were no longer men but two boys, scuffling over surnames in ancient Hogwarts' halls. Draco was weak but nothing if not full of pride for his family, and though Harry was stronger, he found it impossible to fight back to his true physical potential. They rolled over the hard stone floors, until Draco had Harry pinned beneath him and had punched his face as many times as he dared. Harry grabbed Draco's wrists and held them still.

In one breathless moment, they were evenly-matched, Draco with the upper hand's position and Harry in control of their destiny. They stared at one another as if it was the first time, like they had never met before, like two men on the verge of their futures and void of all connection to them.

"You don't deserve this," Harry said, breaking the silence sharply.

"Yes I do," Draco growled. "Stop being the hero, Potter—I am so incredibly tired of hearing you tell people what they do or do not deserve. You've spent the last seven years dictating my future, my family's future, and—"

"You dictated your own future, Malfoy!" Harry was shaking again. Unable to control the rage, he forced Malfoy over and pinned him by his throat to the wall. Crawling between his outstretched legs, Harry held him there as the adrenaline pulsed through his veins. "Nobody asked your father to become a Death Eater, nobody begged your mother to play along until you were in danger and she finally felt something other than self-preservation! Nobody gave _me_ a choice, but you had one, and you wasted it. And your stupid father wasted it. And your mother tried but if you rot away in here in his place, then she's wasted it too, and you are worthless to her, and her sacrifices were in vain."

Only when Draco's eyes started to roll did Harry release him. Scrambling to his feet, Harry stared down at the breathless form of Draco Malfoy. Tears were rolling down Draco's face and he was ghastly pale, somewhat blue around his mouth. Harry dug his fingernails into his own palms in fists to keep from lashing out again, to control the overwhelming urge to punch Malfoy again, or to do something worse.

When he turned away to leave, Harry almost missed the sob that let loose from Malfoy's lips. Spinning around to face Malfoy again, Harry's eyes widened.

"What did you say?"

"Don't make me repeat it," Draco spat, but when he looked up, he looked just like any other boy who had tried to do the right thing and failed. "Please don't leave me."

Cautiously, Harry sat down beside Malfoy. There was no need to say more; Harry had made his point and Draco had finally understood it. So they sat in silence for a long time before it was necessary to either break the quiet calm of the cell and move on with their separate lives or to connect somehow in a way they had never managed before.

When Draco leaned in, Harry did not understand, but as chapped, salty lips met his own, Harry did not pull away. The kiss was the first in Harry's life that he had not wanted but felt he could not live without.

*****

The hearing was swift and the Wizengamot's decision finalized within ten minutes. With Harry's proof and testimony against Lucius Malfoy, Draco needn't have even shown up for the date. Nevertheless, he stood there, pale-faced and gaunt, as his father was sentenced to a life in Azkaban and Draco was pardoned.

Harry watched from afar as Lucius kissed Narcissa for what might be the last time. Their lips lingered, and Narcissa sobbed into the chaste mouthing. And then, Lucius approached his son.

Draco was surprisingly distant as he allowed his father to embrace him, and said nothing when Harry saw Lucius mouth _be careful_ to him.

When it was over and Lucius was taken away, Narcissa wrapped her arms around Draco and held him close. Draco's eyes, which remained open during the hug, caught Harry's from over Narcissa's shoulder. Harry felt the familiar pang of guilt gnaw at him, but he knew he had done the right thing. Draco did not deserve that life, and Lucius did.

Harry approached Draco when nearly everyone had left the courtroom and offered a tense smile at Draco.

"All right, Malfoy?" he asked.

Draco exhaled something that held more weight than just a mere breath, and shook his head. When Harry moved in closer and reached to take Draco's arm, Draco raised one hand in a warning for Harry not to come closer. Harry obeyed as if a spell had been cast on him, cautious not to disturb whatever peace had been made between them. And yet, Harry ached to tell Draco he was sorry, even when he wasn't, and to grip his body and kiss his mouth, even when he shouldn't.

"Please," Draco said quietly, "Leave me alone. I think you have done enough for my family for a lifetime."

Harry did not stop Draco from walking away, but he couldn't stop the pulse of his heart from throbbing in his chest. There was no part of Harry that didn't want to stop Draco from casting their friendship aside, but he knew as well that there was no way now for anything beyond a considerate glance now and again or a private owl burned after reading.

There was no future for them, no reason for Harry to go on wanting the impossible—to connect with someone in the way he connected with Draco.


End file.
